


Misguided Ghosts

by Pixie (magnetgirl)



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Angst, Crack, F/M, Flerken, Fluff, Ghost Cat, cornwell and kirk team up to save the universe with a magic cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 19:22:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12754593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetgirl/pseuds/Pixie
Summary: Katrina agrees to watch Gabriel's cat, but things are not quite as they seem.





	1. Home

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from [sour-blue-milk](http://sour-blue-milk.tumblr.com/post/167319179166/a-cat-for-kat-stupid-fluffy-lorcacornwellcat): oh please please please pixie write a little alien kitty/Lorca/Cornwell fluff piece
> 
> That's chapter one, which takes place prior to the war and the destruction of the Buran. It is meant to stand alone if you don't want to go forward into angst and crazy. Chapter two takes place immediately after the Buran and chapter three is set sometime before "Lethe".

"No."

"How can you say no to this face?"

She leans down to be level with the cat in his arms, looks her in the eyes and repeats, "No."

He pulls her away, and protectively pats the cat's fluffy white head. "You won't even notice her."

"She's been here ten minutes and my sofa is a new color." Katrina gestures to the fine layer of white hair that has settled across the couch they are perched on. 

"Kat."

She presses her lips. "Just take her with you."

"She'd be miserable," he argues. "There's no sun in space."

"There are countless suns in space."

Gabriel's expression is somewhere between dark and weary, and he's right it was a smartass counterargument, but he brings out the brat in her. "Look." He sets the cat down on the built in shelf that juts out under her triple window. "Right here, this is prime real estate for a cat."

"I was going to get plants."

"You kill plants."

She crosses her arms. "Aren't you worried I'll kill your cat?"

"Cats can take care of themselves."

"Then why--"

"Because I want her to have a home," Gabriel answers abruptly, and loud enough to make the cat jump. 

" _My_ home?"

"Yes," he agrees, through his teeth. 

She searches his eyes for clarity but they are a storm. She looks away and his expression softens. He reaches for her hand. 

"It will be good for you both."

She shakes her head. 

"And me," he continues, gentle fingers on her hand, dangerous twinkle in his eyes. "Knowing you're both safe and taking care of each other." He tugs her closer.

This many years into their relationship she knows all of his moves before he makes them, and yet they still work. 

"It's really that important to you," she murmurs against his shoulder as he pulls her into his lap. 

"She's my second favorite Kat."

She rolls her eyes. Comparing her to one of his pets should be the opposite of charming. But here she is agreeing to keep the cat. Among other things. 

 

Katrina is not a cat person. She's not a pet person. As Gabriel pointed out, she's not even a plant person. She is wholly unprepared for Ghost's naturally destructive tendencies. 

 

"She peed in my bed." He hasn't left spacedock and she is already regretting this.

"She's just marking her territory. That's how cats get used to a new environment."

"It's not her territory! It's _my bed_!"

"Well, of everywhere in your apartment it probably smells the most like home."

Katrina frowns at the screen in confusion.

"The most like me," he explains with a smirk. 

She shuts off the comm. 

 

She learns quickly to keep anything breakable inaccessible, to set a lock on her closet, and to respond to Gabriel's daily messages within two hours or he sends twelve more. 

 

"You're mishandling Fleet airspace."

"I'm using public channels."

"You don't have to check in every day."

"Getting bored of me?"

She ignores the attempt to get under her skin. "Why did you give me the cat if you don't trust me?"

"I trust you."

He lives under her skin. 

 

The messages do taper off the further he gets out. Paradoxically, she starts to miss them. That's when she starts talking to the cat.

 

"What?"

Ghost licks her shoulder. 

Kat reaches towards the cat. 

"Come here, we'll show him how well we're getting along." The cat leaps off the sofa. "Wait, no." She scampers away, disappearing behind a bookshelf. "Fine," Katrina calls after her. "For that you don't get dinner."

 

She wakes to the sound of glass hitting the floor. Disturbed, she pulls on a robe, tucks a communicator into the pocket, and creeps out into the main room. The cat is, somehow, seated in her kitchen cabinet. 

"How did you get in there?"

Ghost knocks another glass off the shelf.

"Stop it!"

She advances on the cat, but is stopped by the broken glass strewn across the floor. Ghost mocks her from her perch. 

"Get off there!" Katrina roars. Ghost jumps onto the counter. "Shoo! Shoo!" The cat runs off into the dark. Kat cleans up the glass, locks the cabinet, and stomps back to bed. 

 

She wakes again, to a caterwaul. 

"It's four in the morning," she tells the cat. "Go to sleep."

"Mrow," says Ghost.

"Go to sleep!"

"Mrow."

Katrina flings her pillow in the direction of the cat and hits the button to lock the bedroom door. 

 

In the morning, the cat is gone. 

"Ghost." She orders cat food from the replicator. "Ghost! Breakfast."

No response. 

"Ghost!" She puts the food down on the counter and starts a sweep through the apartment. "Stop hiding and come eat." 

I t's really not a big enough space to lose a cat. She's not in the bathroom. The bedroom was locked. The door and window are closed. But then so was the cabinet. She inspects the cabinet door, still locked. Three glasses missing. But Gabriel would say that's what cats do when they aren't fed on time. 

"He's going to kill me. You stupid cat, where are you?!"

"Mrow."

She spins to find the cat sitting on her window sill. 

"Oh, thank… don't do that ever again. Understand?"

Ghost curls into a contemptuous ball. 

 

They start to build a routine. Breakfast before Kat heads off to Medical or HQ. Ghost greets her at the door when she returns, no matter how late. They record weekly messages for Gabriel. Short, simple, factual. His responses are far less so, but that's to be expected. They are far more infrequent, too. He's out on the frontier. Sometimes she wishes she was, too. 

One night, she's reading reports, bored and a bit melancholy, when she feels a paw nudge her knee. Surprised she slowly reaches over to stroke Ghost's head. A rough tongue, slimy and seemingly too long, licks her knuckles. "Are we friends now?" The cat closes her eyes. 

 

As the weeks wear on, the cat's friendly overtures become more frequent. But she remains a drama queen. 

"What did you do now?!" It was her fault for leaving the nuts out, she thinks. "Get down. You don't belong on the counter. Aarrgh."

The comm unit beeps. "Get down. Down!" It beeps again, from under the cat. Desperate, Katrina snatches the cat into her arms and hits the button. 

"Cornwell," she shouts over the cat's dismayed yowling. She can't hear the response at all. 

"Shh," she tells the cat. "I'm sorry, can you repeat that," she tells the comm. 

There is another burst of noise, but the uproar drowns it out again. Frustrated she throws the cat over the counter. 

"...Cornwell? Hello?"

"Yes?"

"Is everything alright?"

"Never better."

The silence grows. Now the stupid cat is quiet. She pulls her lips in over her teeth. 

"The debriefing has been moved up to 09:30 tomorrow morning."

"Understood," she acknowledges. 

After another pregnant pause the connection is broken. Katrina lets out a breath and glares at the cat, returned to counter and licking her fur with feline nonchalance. 

"You are a menace."

Ghost seems to think it's a compliment. 

 

She wakes to a weight on her shoulder. The cat is curled up, a ball of white fluff, heavier than she'd imagine. 

"Is this how you sleep with him?" she whispers into the lonely dawn, picturing the cat snuggled into the crook of Gabriel's arm, or laid on his chest, rising and lowering with his breath. The cat blinks her eyes open. _Ugh_ , thinks Katrina,  _now I'm not only talking to the cat, I'm expecting her to respond_. 

She reaches up and gathers Ghost into her arms as she turns over and pulls up into a half-sitting position. 

"I miss him, too."

The cat's purrs fill the room.

"Sorry I'm late," she calls as she slips into the apartment. The cat has an uncanny sense of timing considering her animal intelligence. "Ghost?" She's used to being greeted at the door. In the early days the cat would hide, but she hadn't disappeared in weeks. "Ghost, where are you?"

"Boo!"

Katrina jumps out of her skin, causing Gabriel to chuckle. He tries to pull her into an embrace but she shoves him away.

"What are you doing here? You're not due for a week."

"Courier duty, picked up an ambassador in a hurry." She frowns. Knowing how much Lorca hates carting people around, she wonders if he pushed the ambassador to it. Hardly an actionable offense, though, whatever the breach of protocol. Speaking of. 

"How did you get in here?"

"Cat let me in."

She makes a face. 

"Are you upset to see me?"

"No. No, I just."

"Don't like surprises."

She shakes her head. "When did you dock? I'd expect to see you at HQ."

"I came here first."

Her eyes go wide. "You didn't report to St-"

He closes his mouth over hers and she melts despite herself. When she gives in to the kiss he picks her up at the waist and maneuvers her deeper into the apartment, towards the bedroom, dropping bits of their uniforms as they go. 

"I  missed my cat," he teases and she pulls him down onto the bed. 

 

She wakes warm, curled beside his body, a familiar weight on her shoulder. 

"Traitor."

She laughs and peers up to meet his eyes. "She's my cat now."


	2. Safe

"Any change?"

The nurse shakes her head and Katrina feels a sharp wave of relief wash over her. Sharp and selfish -- of course she wants him to wake up, but she wants to be there when he does. She thanks the nurse and heads back to the room, carrier in hand. 

"Ma'am, is that…?"

"Therapy animal," she answers with a small shrug of her arm. 

"Is that allowed?"

Katrina halts and spins to look her in the eye. "It has my authorization, Ensign."

The nurse straightens her shoulders. "Yes, Admiral."

Kat nods again and strides away. She should probably feel badly, and maybe worry about her own state of mind going into the fifth day of a bedside vigil, but instead she pictures Gabriel's delighted expression when she explains how she pulled rank to get the cat into his hospital room. 

He's exactly as she left him. Sleeping calmly in the dim room, the blue gel mask over his eyes the only indication of injury. She glances at the screen above his head. Readings normal. Placing the carrier down she takes a moment to move around the various gifts from well-wishers, moving plants to the back so as not to tempt the cat. Gabriel doesn't have a lot of good friends per se, but he is popular with a certain contingent. And a war hero, now. War victim. Same thing. 

Satisfied, she opens the carrier and nudges the cat out. She was worried the room's privacy shield might not contain the animal's yowling but Ghost has been uncharacteristically calm since she picked her up. It's as if she knows something of what's going on. Yes, it’s a silly musing, but a comforting one. 

The cat leaps up onto the biobed to inspect her friend. She sniffs, nudges, licks and finally settles onto his chest, curled into a fluffy little ball, her body rising and falling with his breath. Kat runs a hand gently behind the animal’s ears. "Good girl," she murmurs, and drops into her chair beside the bed. Curling her fingers around Gabriel’s hand, she falls back to wait.

 

"Kat…"

She sits up, suddenly awake. "I'm here." She tightens her grip on his hand. 

"Where…?"

"Starfleet Medical." He's stirring now, trying to sit up. "Be careful, your eyes are still healing." He lifts a hand to touch the mask, frowning beneath it. He turns his face towards her voice. 

"You're here."

The doors swish open to allow a medical team into the room. 

"I'm here," she says again, as they step in to check his vitals. 

A nurse draws her back to allow the med team space. She places a comforting hand on Katrina's arm.  "I guess the cat worked."

 

Three days later he's released from Medical. He's been assigned temporary quarters but Kat takes him home. His vision is still shaky and she doesn't want him to be alone. 

"I'm not good company."

"You're not company," she argues. "Take the bedroom. Make yourself at home."

He flinches at the word. She brushes a tentative hand down his arm and nudges him into the room. The cat follows. 

Katrina moves to the sofa to address all the missives she's been setting aside the past week. She only missed one meeting but there's a war going on and she can't afford to be distracted any longer. _He's safe_ , she tells herself. _He's safe_. 

She doesn't want to be alone, either. 

 

The first week is an adjustment period. His eyes gradually improve but require the lights dim at all times and they start to live in perpetual twilight. The cat approves. 

 

"Did they say when you can get them fixed?"

"I don't want them fixed."

She frowns. "Did you ask? Just to know the timetable and the risks."

"I don't want surgery."

"Gabriel--"

She reaches towards him, he slaps her hand away. 

"I already talked to counselors for three hours today." 

He retreats to the bedroom, shields up, weapons armed. She pours herself a glass of wine and falls asleep on the sofa. 

 

They're tentative around each other in a way they haven't been in years. She keeps long hours and returns weary, he evades, waiting to be cleared for duty. The cat divides her attention between the two. Night terrors keep them all ill-rested, and night lasts longer than it should. 

 

"I want to go back. I need to go back."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea." His psych evals are all clear and the admiralty voted to close the Buran case. But it was close, and they don't live with him. They don't see the way he's looking at her right now. 

"It's the best idea we've got. I read the report, I want the new ship."

"You read-- Gabriel, that's classified!" How did he even…?

"Why am I here, Admiral? What do you want from me?"

"What? Nothing, I-- you're here to recover. I'm worried about you."

"I'm recovered."

She glares at the harsh tone, feeling betrayed. "Enough to break into--"

"I shouldn't have had to break in," he roars. "You should have told me. I know I'm set to be reassigned and you've been sitting on it for two days." She lifts her chin, resolved. "They want me for this, don't they? I'm exactly what they need. And you don't want me to have it."

"That's not--"

He pushes her away and storms toward the bedroom, nearly stepping on the cat. 

"Gabriel, please," she pleads, following. "I'm your friend."

He turns in the doorway. "I don't need a friend. I need a ship." 

He kicks the cat away from the frame and locks them both out. Swallowing angry tears, Katrina picks up the cat and retreats to the window sill. 

"It's not you," she tells the animal shaking in her tight grip. "It's not you."

 

In the morning, he's still locked behind a closed door, but in the evening she returns to dinner on the table. With candles. 

 

"I'm sorry," he answers before she can ask. His expression appears genuinely contrite as he takes her hands and leads her to the table. "I know you're under as much stress as I am and everything I said was uncalled for."

She lets him guide her into a chair and focuses on the flickering candles as he drops into the other. "I want to do something," he continues. "I want to be useful. I want to … I want to fight. But." She lifts her eyes to meet his. "But, Klingons," he says. "I want to fight Klingons. Not you."

She pulls her lips in over her teeth, considering. "And you shouldn't have taken advantage of our relationship to read classified documents."

A smile tugs at his lips. "And I shouldn't have taken advantage of our relationship to… I shouldn't take advantage of our relationship."

She holds his gaze a long, quiet moment. 

"You've been assigned to Discovery. They're drafting your orders tonight."

"Against your recommendation?"

She takes a breath. "No."

He stands, steps to her side, and pulls her up into his arms. His heart pounds in her ear. It doesn't feel right, yet. But it feels better. 

 

He ships out almost immediately. Crew made up of specialists, and officers ship-orphaned by the war. It's not the standard process, but nothing is standard these days. 

 

"You should take the cat with you."

"I wish I could." He winks, and though a small gesture, it's reassuringly familiar. 

"Ghost," she clarifies. 

"I'll feel better knowing you're together."

She nods. "Good luck, Captain."

"I make my own fortune."


	3. Bubble

The war plays havoc on schedules and the cat does not appreciate it at all. After returning to broken glass three more occasions, Katrina makes a point to schedule runs home whenever she can. 

 

"I just need to feed the cat," she explains to her Vulcan colleague. "Won't be a minute." She leaves him by the door, dials Ghost's preferred supplement and picks up the empty dish from the morning. 

"Oh." She places the dish on the counter, bemusedly watching the cat give Terral the sniff and lick treatment. "Usually she doesn't like people."

"How long have you had this creature?"

"Hm? Oh. Um, a few…" Everything blends together lately. She feels like she's aged years in the last month. The replicator dings and she grabs the cat's dish. "She's Captain Lorca's, I've been cat-sitting since…actually before the..." She blinks. "What are you doing?" Terral has a tricorder out, pointed at the cat. 

"There is a temporal anomaly centered on this animal."

"Sorry, what?"

"I would like to take it to the lab and run a number of tests."

"You can't be serious."

"I assure you, Admiral, Vulcans do not joke."

Katrina puts the dish down. "No," she concedes, "but."

"You say she belongs to Captain Lorca?"

"Yes. Sort of. I mean, I've had her for." She presses a hand to her temple. She's getting a headache. "It's not important. But there's never been anything weird about her."

"Curious."

"What?"

"The readings have stabilized." He holds out the tricorder, now displaying the readout of a perfectly normal domestic animal. 

"Maybe there's something wrong with your tricorder."

He nods, though not entirely convinced. 

"We should get back."

He nods again. She moves the dish from counter to floor and Ghost runs over to eat. 

 

By the end of the strategy meeting, Terral seems to have forgotten the mystery of the cat. Or at least moved on. But back home, Katrina finds herself watching Ghost's movement. Gabriel _had_ said she just appeared one day. And there were at least a dozen times she'd been sure the cat was gone just to have her walk in as if she'd been there all along. 

 

_This is ridiculous._ But she pulls out a tricorder and passes it over the cat. The screen lights up with a diagnosis: cat. Katrina scrunches her nose. Ghost cocks her head and touches a paw to the instrument, causing it to light up and whirr with a sudden overload of energy. _Okay. Ridiculous and possibly true._

Terral was right, she needs to run tests. But if it's some kind of prank Gabriel expected to go off ages ago...well, before the war it would have been annoying, right now it could get him in real trouble. But if it's  _ not _ a prank, then she's living with an alien creature.   _That may have a weird jumping ability...like the spore drive? Wait, Terral said temporal anomaly, what if the cat does end up on Discovery sometime in the future, and is affected by the spore drive, and somehow gets sent back in time to…._

 

_ Okay, now she really sounds crazy.  _

 

Ghost is still staring at her. "Do you … can you understand me?"

The cat butts her knee with her head. "Is that a yes?"

The cat turns and walks away, seemingly bored. "That's very clear, thank you," Kat calls sarcastically after the creature. 

_Okay, fine. Tests it is._ But not with Terral, the fewer people who know about this the better. She puts a call in to the Academy. 

"Hi, Joan? I need a name. I have a ...top secret science project. Propulsion related. Dangerous?" She glances at Ghost, curled up on the window sill. "No...um, well." _This is ridiculous._  "Look. I need someone with an open mind, who thinks on his feet, and has a...creative relationship with regulations."

 

"Lieutenant James T. Kirk reporting for duty, ma'am."

"At ease." He settles and she shakes his hand. "Admiral Cornwell. Thank you for coming."  He nods, but his eyes flicker. "Something to say?"

"No, sir. Ma'am."

"Speak freely, Lieutenant."

"Well, I don't know what the mission is but…" He looks around the lab. "I'm not a scientist."

"The mission is classified, I need to know you're in before we go any further."

He peers at her, but the Admiral's expression gives nothing away. "Is it related to the war effort?"

"I can't answer that."

"Is it dangerous?"

"Potentially."

Kirk purses his lips. "Okay. What do I have to do?"

Cornwell raises a recorder and hits a button. "Lieutenant James Kirk is hereby assigned to Operation: Ghost by order of Vice Admiral Katrina Cornwell. Record the stardate, affect transfer and classify all reports KC-Omega. Welcome aboard, Kirk."

He grins. "So, what's Operation: Ghost?"

She replaces the recorder, hits a button to lock the lab and put a privacy screen in place, and retrieves the animal from a crate below the table. As Kirk watches she places her on the biobed. 

"This is Ghost."

Kirk shoots her a look of disbelief.

"That's a cat."

"I thought so, too." She nods the biobed. "But these readings indicate there are bubbles of subspace inside her body." She hits a button to dim the lights and activate a spatial map. "And according to the computer's calculations, it's most likely an alternate reality."

Kirk stares. "There's a…"

"An alternate pocket reality."

"...inside your cat."

"That's the going, theory, yes."

Silence falls over the lab. Ghost ignores both humans in favor of licking her fur. 

"Look, I know it sounds impossible."

"It sounds crazy." He bites his lip. "Sorry, Admiral, but--"

"No, you're right, it sounds crazy. But I've seen crazy becoming established protocol." She nods at the cat. "And this cat has exhibited the ability to disappear and reappear. If we can harness that…"

"You want to use your cat as a ...inter-dimensional transporter?"

She crosses her arms. "I want to know if it's possible."

He looks from the cat to the admiral, considering. "Is it too late to get re-reassigned?"

"I'm not going to force you into anything. But you can't tell anyone about this."

"No one would believe me."

She startles him by laughing. It softens her features and brightens her eyes. "No, I… you're probably right."

He grins and reaches a tentative hand toward the cat (or cat-like creature). Both cat and admiral watch with a kind of fire in their eyes. Ghost sniffs his hand and then flicks her tongue -- long and split, more like two entwined tentacles than what he'd expect a cat to have -- to lick his fingers. He raise his eyes to meet Katrina's. 

"Let's get started."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ghost is a [flerken](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Flerken) and depending on where canon takes us, she just might transport Cornwell and Kirk into the action.


End file.
